


We All Become

by rainier_day



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Transistor, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 09:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainier_day/pseuds/rainier_day
Summary: "Hey Caleb… We're not going to get away with this, are we?"





	We All Become

**Author's Note:**

> The Transistor!AU no one asked for. If you haven't played the game, it's definitely worth a go :)

" _Hey Caleb… We're not going to get away with this, are we?_ "

 

He wakes up to silence.

"Caleb?" a familiar voice calls to him. "Are you there?"

He opens his eyes.

"Mister Caleb," it calls again. "Please be alright. You have to be alright. _Please._ "

Pushing himself to his feet, he rubs his head and looks around to find…nothing.

"Caleb? Is that you? I'm over here. Are you alright? I'm…well, I'm over here. Just to warn you though: it's not a pretty sight."

Following the voice, he rounds the corner to find and feels the ground drop from under his feet. There's a familiar lavender tiefling on the ground, an unusual sword protruding from his chest. His normally bright crimson eyes are skyward, unseeing.

"Oh thank the gods it's you. Hey, it's alright. I'm still here." When he doesn't look away, the voice says a little louder, " _Caleb_ , time for that later. I'm still here."

Finally, he tears his gaze away and focuses on the glowing sword. Opening his mouth, no sound comes out.

"What's the matter? Frumpkin caught your tongue? Please say something."

Caleb tries again.

Nothing.

"…shit. They took your voice. But your spells then…"

He shakes his head. Without the verbal component, most of his spells are nothing more than an assortment of items in his pocket—he looks down and then around.

"You left your coat in my changing room, remember? I'm not sure where we are right now but you can take mine."

Looking down at the body, he hesitates.

"It's fine. I don't have much use for it right now and I'd hate for someone to steal it. You should probably pull…me out of, well, me first."

Caleb eventually nods, hands hovering over the handle of the sword indecisively.

"Look, you need a way to protect yourself and you can bet your ass I'm coming with you. We need to get you out of here so _pull_."

He does, and the sound of the sword separating from flesh nearly makes him gag. Leaning it against the wall, he retrieves the colourful embroidered coat and puts it on—a hand-sewn sky filled with stars and symbols draped across his back. Then leaning down, he brushes the hair out of the tiefling's face and gently closes his eyes. His fingers dance lightly against the dangling ornaments as he traces the curve of the horn.

Taking a deep breath, Caleb settles himself and stands up. The coat is light and breezy compared to his, but it smells like incense and spices and _home_. Pulling it closer around himself, he looks down at the body one more time and takes the sword.

"…"

Caleb looks down, tilting his head in question.

"No, it's nothing. It's stupid."

Arching a brow, he waits.

"Fine. I just…my jewellery. They're mine. I chose them. I told you it was stupid. Let's just go."

He kneels back down and carefully removes the charms from the tiefling's horns and secures them around the guard of the sword. Next, he takes the necklaces and wraps them around the hilt, tugging at it gently to ensure they won't fall off.

"Thank you, Caleb."

Standing back up, he focuses his attention on the sword and the familiar chime of the ornaments rather than the body, now stripped of everything that once made it glitter and glow with life.

"There we go. Together again. Mostly. Let's go find the others. Hopefully they fared better than we did."

The sword is large and unwieldy and the best he can do is drag it along behind him as he walks.

"Yasha makes this look so easy. I bet she could give you a nice shave with this thing. Hey, up ahead. Looks like trouble."

Glancing down, he wonders where the sword's optic receptors are.

"I know that look. I love that look. But let's discuss my lack of eyes later. I'm stuck in a sword, I don't know what you're expecting."

Caleb trudges on ahead, categorizing how the walls of the buildings have distorted and parts of the ground have sprouted up with runes carved into the surface.

Running among the carvings are small demons, but not like any he's ever seen or read about before.

Yielding the broad sword against their strange foe, Caleb's nearly thrown off his feet when the blade shoots bolts of fire out and then teleports him a short distance away.

"Oh, that's handy. I always thought you should be able to do a bit of that like me. You're so squishy."

With a grunt, he manages to cleave one of the demons in half before teleporting back away from the others.

"Go get them, Caleb. There may be a swordsman in you yet. Not literally."

Fortunately, the fight doesn't last very long and he kneels down to study the sword, trying to understand its powers and functions better. While two abilities is already two more than he expected, if it's capable of more, he wants to know how to access it.

"Caleb, my beautiful, clever wizard, you're the smartest person in the city. If you can't figure this out, no one can. I don't even know how I'm talking to you right now."

He spends another minute mulling over the weapon, unwilling to risk making any changes to it. Eventually, he shakes his head and shrugs.

"So you never saw any of this while you were…well, never mind that. We should keep going. We're on the outskirts of the city, aren't we? Where should we go—hey, is that a terminal?"

They continue down the empty street until he reaches the terminal and activates it.

_Welcome to Zadash! Please login with your Empire-provided ID and verification. If you are a guest, enter your current location for directions to the nearest sanctified guest-login provider._

Leaning the sword against the terminal next to him, he starts typing in his credentials.

"Your password is ridiculously long. Is it my name? I bet it's my name with hugs and kisses."

He spares a moment to look over, doing his best to appear unimpressed.

"You're smiling! I'm right, aren't I?"

Logging in, he pulls up the main screen and scrolls through. Nothing looks amiss.

_You voted: "Overcast"_

_Today's outcome: 76% voted "Sunny"_

"I used to get so angry at the weather here. I always got Yasha to vote for rain every day but it's only ever sunny in Zadash. I bet it's rigged."

Going through the other tabs, there's still no news about the demons roaming the streets.

"Well, either they don't know yet or they found out too late. I don't think we'll find anything useful here. Let's go. …really? You're going to take the time to properly log out? You're adorable."

Caleb furrows his brows before taking the sword and continuing on his way. The metal in his sword is cold and hard, so different from the warmth tieflings radiate. Ignoring the thought, he tightens his grip and wonders if the sword has any tactile receptors in it.

It remains silent.

He supposes he should've guessed as much.

\--

They pass several more blocks when he spots a figure up ahead.

"Is that Nott? Oh shit, it's Nott."

Running over, he kneels down by the goblin and props her up, panic welling up from deep in his chest. There's a faint grey glow surrounding her and he doesn't know how to help.

"Nott? Hey, can you hear me? It's us!"

Her eyes crack open, much to Caleb's relief. But when she goes to speak, only static comes out and he can't understand what she's trying to say beyond the determined expression on her face.

"Yeah, he's fine. His voice is gone but otherwise your boy's fine. Me? Well, I'm like this."

Nott glances over at him and says something but he merely frowns.

"Caleb? What's wrong?"

He points to his ears and shakes his head.

"You don't understand her? Why? But you understand me, right? Did they take that away too or is it something to do with this light?"

Both of them shrug, uncertain.

"We can figure that out later. She says she wants to come with us. She wants to come into the sword—into…whatever this is. She wants to help."

Caleb furrows his brows and frowns down at her. Yellow goblin eyes blink slowly back at him, her breathing shallow and weak.

"She says she's sure so stop making that face. I mean, we can't just leave her here like this. …I don't know how this works. He doesn't know either—yes, of course I know he's the smartest person in the city!"

Listening to this familiar albeit one-sided bickering makes him wish he could comprehend it, if only for comfort sake. He holds a hand up to stop the two and looks around for any sign of trouble.

"Hey, Nott, I'm going to try something, alright? Caleb? You ready?"

He nods. If this will save Nott then he's willing to try it, and if he can figure out a way to undo all this, then maybe things can go back to the way they were.

Nott smiles at him, her mouth full of jagged yellow teeth and eyes full of love. She doesn't need to speak for him to get the message.

Caleb feels his throat tighten even as he gentle tucks her hair behind those long ears that she hates so much.

There's a faint glow and suddenly, Nott's form disappears. He lets out a gasp, his eyes wide.

"It's okay. She's in here, Caleb. Nott's in here. It doesn't look like we can swap, so I guess you're stuck with me. But just know that she's also here. She's safe. I can feel it. Try swinging the sword. I think it'll help."

He nods and takes the sword and swings it up. A wave of energy is unleashed, exploding on contact with the wall—just like Nott's exploding arrow.

The sight of it fills him with relief.

It's alright.

Nott's still here.

"That's not bad, huh? Looks like you'll get a chance to test it out."

Carving his way through another small group of demons, Caleb arrives at an empty intersection. Helpful road signs point the way to the Pentamarket while others guide him out of the city.

"Oh, hey, aren't those the flyers I put up? They're still there."

Blinking, he turns to see a cluster of identical flyers pasted onto a small section of the brick wall. He walks over and reads, ' _Fletching and Moondrop's Travelling Circus of Curiosities'_. On the poster are illustrations of the performers: a half-elf in a top hat, a small dwarven girl, a burly half-orc, a man with a painted face, a fiery humanoid woman, and a purple tiefling in a colourful coat.

"It catches your attention, right? That was the excuse I was going to give Gustav if he ever found out."

Caleb arches a brow.

"What? I take my job very seriously, okay? This happened a long time ago and I had a good reason for it! It was a really long day and I just happened to see a sad, beautiful man and a little goblin girl walk by. I thought, wouldn't it be nice to give them something special? So I did."

He remembers that day when a flashy purple tiefling jogged after them only to tell them they looked like they were in need of a pick-me-up and handed him a flyer with a winning smile.

'It's my very last one,' he remembers the tiefling telling him. 'Lucky for me you came along—I was waiting for just the right person to give it to.'

Somehow, knowing the story behind the flyer he keeps in the apartment he shares with Nott only makes it more precious. Frowning, he runs his fingers softly over the tiefling in the poster.

"It's okay, Caleb. We'll get through this. If anyone can figure out what’s going on, it's you. And I'll be with you the whole time. And so will Nott."

He heaves a sigh and stands back to look down the street, ready to continue towards the city center.

"Actually, can we go check up on the circus? Yasha was there when we…I know we're in a hurry, but I'd like to check up on them, please."

Caleb nods. He had no intention of denying the request in the first place and turns the other way to return to the outskirts of town where a familiar colourful tent stands. It's silent and empty, so unlike just earlier that day.

Walking towards it in tense silence, he lifts the flap to the main tent where he'd been when the attack occurred.

He remembers standing to the side, away from the crowd, in a place where only the performers were allowed. He remembers the lavender tiefling on stage, juggling and doing daring flips off the tightrope, earning him gasps and applause from the audience. And he remembers stealing a kiss as the tiefling traded off with one of the other performers.

"Caleb? _Caleb_!"

Snapping out of his reverie, he glances down.

"Over there in the back."

Dragging the sword over, he finds a large woman on the ground, a similar grey light surrounding her. She's unmoving but the light seems to flicker at their approach.

He's not used to having to look down at her with her impressive build. Imposing as she may seem, even while lying still, he knows her. He's seen her give soft kisses and untangle charms with feather-light touches.

"Yasha! Yasha, can you hear me? Please don't be gone, please don't be—"

There's the faint sound of static.

"Oh, thank the gods! Yes, dear, it's me. I'm here! I'm…well, I'm here. And Caleb's here as well."

He kneels down by the woman and lightly touches her shoulder before balancing the sword in his lap. Yasha's eyes crack open for a moment and there's more static as she exhales.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I can't explain it either but I'm here now. And we'll get you somewhere safe, okay?"

Her hand twitches and reaches for the sword.

"Yes, of course you are! Caleb, she's coming with us. She _has_ to come! She's the charm—she's _my_ charm! Where would I be without my charm?"

Without hesitation, Caleb nods in agreement.

"Everything's going to be fine, Yasha. We'll find a way to make things better and we'll do it together—just like always. …I love you too."

Like with Nott, a faint glow surrounds the woman's body. Her eyes never leave the sword even as her body disappears into it. He holds his breath and waits for some form of affirmation that the process went well.

"She's here." The relief is palpable. "She's here and she's safe. Thank you, Caleb. She's _so_ important. I don't…I wouldn't be able to stand losing her. Thank you."

He smiles and shakes his head, giving the handle a squeeze despite knowing that the gesture would be lost.

Suddenly, there's a screech from outside.

"Bren. _Bren_! You are here, you are here, you are _here_."

Caleb freezes at the distorted voice.

"I knew you'd be back, I knew, I knew…"

Running out the tent, he sees a familiar figure from both his childhood and just earlier that day.

"Is that…you called her Astrid, right? What happened to her?"

The woman perks up and snarls. "That voice! We killed you, we killed you." Her growl soon turns into a gleeful cackle. "You tried so hard but you are dead, poor little devil, little devil."

Caleb bristles and shoots an explosive shot at her. She hissed and launched a gleaming sharp shard of ice at him.

"Swing up!"

He does and watches as the ice knife get dispelled before it can make contact.

"Yes! There's my charm!"

Astrid's face contorts with rage. "Bren! How dare you! How dare you, how _dare_!"

"His name is Caleb Widogast!"

She screams and sends a cone of cold blasting towards him. Teleporting as far out of the way as he can, he counters with a fire bolt even as he gets clipped in the side with ice.

"You were mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! I found you, Bren! Come back! Come back, come back, come back—"

Caleb frowns as she clutches at her head.

Astrid reaches a hand out imploringly. "I told him you'd be alone, alone…I said you'd come back. _Bren_. You belong with us, with us, with _us_."

"You're wrong. He may not have chosen to leave, but he chose to stay away. He chose to leave the Cerberus Assembly behind. He chose to be Caleb Widogast. And he chose to be with _us_."

His heart swells with love at the words and it's so _frustrating_ that he can't even express his gratitude.

Astrid screams. A bright grey engulfing her for a moment. "The Consecution cannot be stopped, cannot be—"

Her voice devolves into static even as another cone of cold is sent his way.

Caleb quickly dispels the magic, wincing at the ice knife hidden amidst the blast. He teleports forward as it shatters and raises the sword, thrusting it into the woman's torso. A shriek of static fills the air and a burst of energy kicks up the dust around them.

When everything settles, Astrid is there, watching him with fading eyes. Despite having made his choice, the sight still pains him—especially when he can remember dancing with her with stumbling feet and laughing, thinking they were at the top of the world.

Although that young love may have been foolish and fleeting, out of everything in his wretched life, he can't bring himself to regret it.

She opens her mouth and even through the static, he knows exactly what she's saying— _whose_ name she is calling. And he mourns for her just as he mourns for his lost childhood and family.

"Before you go to the City, tell me: are there any survivors? Your people, our people, anyone at all."

There's a lull as soft static floats from her.

"Alright. …we'll see about that." A pause. "That's not my name."

Astrid doesn't say anything more. With one final glance to him, her form vanishes into the sword.

"Are you alright, Caleb? She said everyone's gone to the City. The stronger ones may still be around, but everyone else is gone."

Frowning at the lack of information, he walks back down the way he'd come until he finds the terminal and logs back in.

The only page that greets him is an emergency bulletin.

_Warning: 72% of Zadash overrun by the Consecution. Unstable magic causing rifts to appear across the city. Please immediately find the nearest Crownsguard for further directions._

Caleb scans the short article, gleaming nothing from it. At the bottom of the page, he finds the comments section and starts typing.

_> Did Astrid say anything else?_

There's a reluctant pause. "She said the last she saw, Eodwulf was still alive. …and so was Trent Ikithon. I'm sorry, Caleb."

He takes a deep breath, wincing when it pulls at his wounds.

_> It's not like you to say sorry for others._

"No, I suppose it's not, is it?"

_> She knew your name?_

"Not _my_ name. _His_. I don't know how. This is all…just too much. I don't understand it. I'm not sure I _want_ to."

It's clear that this line of conversation has come to a stop. He nods to himself.

_> Let's see if we can find our friends in the market._

"That sounds like a plan to me, Mister Caleb. Maybe we can find a potion to heal you up. You look like you could use one."

Logging out, he walks down several blocks when he passes by a familiar looking ivory door. Quickly backtracking a couple of steps, he stares at it for a long moment before curiosity gets the better of him and he drags the sword inside.

"Oh, it's the magic mansion you made for us when we were on the road."

There's an insistent meow and he looks down to see a familiar cat trotting straight at him. Smiling, he gathers Frumpkin in his arms and holds him close.

"Caleb, look behind you."

He turns around and looks out the door to see a leaf stuck in the air. Narrowing his eyes, upon closer inspection, he sees that it's still falling, just at an exponentially slower rate.

"Does that mean maybe everything outside isn't real?"

Caleb shrugs. He doubts it, but he doesn't have enough information to figure out the reason behind this temporal shift.

"Hey, at least this means you can rest a bit if you need. And I think you need it. Come on, let's see what's upstairs."

Nodding, he pulls the sword up, only belatedly realizing he could've had one of the servants do it. But then he glances down at the sword and knows immediately that he would never willingly part with it, no matter how briefly.

The upstairs corridor of the mansion looks exactly as he designed it. Tall and spacious with softened corners for the rowdy bunch he surrounded himself with. Walking past the row of doors, he already knows exactly what's waiting in each room.

Vials of colourful ink, hidden doors waiting for be found, tiny unicorns figurines, a bouncy bed with the softest blanket.

A simple bed, a large mat in the middle for stretches, a subtle bookcase tucked away in a corner out of sight.

Plants, so many plants of every variety, a tray full of matching teacups, a soft padded mat in the middle of the floor for meditation.

He doesn't open any of them, unable to bear the thought of seeing the rooms he so carefully crafted unoccupied by their intended tenants.

Stopping at the second to last room, he turns the knob and walks inside to be greeted by the smell of incense and spices and a large gaudy Platinum Dragon tapestry hanging on the wall.

"Wouldn't you rather rest in your room, Caleb? You made it the way you like it, right? Wouldn't that be more restful?"

Caleb shakes his head and places the sword on the bed before climbing up next to it. The purple-silver covers are silky to the touch, the gold lining smooth under his fingers. Pulling a pillow under his head, he remembers making them specifically to accommodate curled horns and the delighted response he'd received for it.

Wrapping the colourful coat around him and inhaling deeply, he lets out a sigh and places a hand on the sword and the other on Frumpkin, who's curled up on his chest.

Eyes closing briefly, he wakes a while later to a servant tending to his wounds. Sitting up, he instinctively opens his mouth to dismiss them but no sound comes out.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

He rubs his eyes and shakes his head.

"You're adorable. I wish I could touch you."

Caleb also wishes that.

Allowing the servant to finish is task, he stretches and notices a tray of food balanced on the nightstand.

"I thought you'd be hungry after everything. You'll need the energy so eat up."

His stomach immediately grumbles in agreement. Without protest, he polishes off the tray and sits for a moment longer. Although he knows he needs to return back to Zadash, needs to find his friends and Eodwulf and _Trent_ , it's peaceful here.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that everything's alright. Frumpkin purrs and raises up to rub his cheek against his chin before climbing up to settle around his neck.

Burying his face in his familiar's fur, he sighs and gets up. Suddenly remembering whose room he decided to nap in, he looks over to the sword only to find that one of the servants had wrapped a pink feather boa around its hilt and bursts into silent laughter.

"I thought you might appreciate it. It's a good look, right?"

Caleb nods in agreement and places a kiss on the freshly cleaned blade.

"Oh _my_ , Mister Caleb, how forward of you."

Still smiling faintly, he pulls the sword off the bed and runs a hand through the boa.

"We should probably keep it here, huh? Maybe Frumpkin can watch over it until we come back."

He unwraps it from the sword, untangling the jewellery from the feathers, and drapes it gently around the cat, who patiently endures it if only to humour him.

"It works on him. …I guess we should go out and face the music. We're almost at the Pentamarket. How are you feeling?"

Caleb touches his wounds gingerly and shrugs. Without a healer and time to properly rest, this is as good as it's going to get.

"Okay, just don't push yourself too hard. We can always come back if we need. Maybe Pumat Sol will have potions or armour for you."

It's a good idea and he nods as he drags the sword back down the stairs towards the entrance.

Frumpkin obediently leaps off his shoulder and onto the floor to see them off.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him, Frumpkin. We'll be back."

And with that, he steps back out onto the street, just in time to see the leaf from earlier hit the ground.

Time resumes at its normal pace.

"Right back at it, huh? Guess it was too much to hope that things would fix themselves out here."

Making the rest of the trek to the market, Caleb steps into the Invulnerable Vagrant only to find it cold and dim inside, so different from its usual magically maintained atmosphere.

The shelves have been ransacked. People must've come in here looking to arm themselves when the demons first appeared.

"Fjord!"

He looks down to find the half-orc there, sitting with his back to the counter. A deep static comes from his mouth and once more, frustration washes over him at being unable to interpret the words.

"Yeah, we're alright. Mostly alright, anyway. Shit, no potions here then? …no, we haven't seen either of them yet, but we're looking. It doesn't look like you're state to run to anyone's rescue, _Oskar_. Come with us."

Fjord huffs.

"Glad we're on the same page then. Don't worry, they're strong. We'll find them."

Without any hassle, Fjord vanishes into the sword.

"He's here. Ever the valiant one, that Fjord."

Caleb looks around as the water in the air begins drawing toward him. Pulling together, the droplets form a thin armour around him and he's seen Fjord use this spell enough times to know how it functions.

"That's awfully kind of him. I guess we don't need to worry about finding you thicker armour just yet."

When he steps back outside, there's a new swarm of demons waiting to greet them. Carving his way through, one of the demons' attacks land, evoking the armour. It shrieks as ice pierces its body in retaliation.

More slowly this time, the spell begins gathering water droplets from the air once more.

"Guess it's not unlimited. Caleb, to your right!"

He fires a fire bolt at the demon followed by an explosive shot and watches it crumble to dust. A little out of breath, he stands up and dusts the coat off.

"Are you alright? These rifts seem to be getting worse. I'm sure that says something about the magic involved, but that's your expertise not mine. Let's go find a potion, maybe that wild grace place has some?"

Caleb nods and continues forward until they reach a small tent attached to a shop. Lying outside is a familiar pink and grey firbolg.

Quickly jogging over and kneeling down, he peers down at Caduceus worriedly.

"Mister Clay? Mister Clay, are you still there?"

There's a long pause, but then the static that comes is calm and steady. It's enough to bring a sigh of relief to his lips.

"Ah, we were afraid you’d—you know what? Never mind. I'm glad you're alright. Relatively. How are you? You wouldn't happen to know if there are healing potions here, would you?"

Another measured stream of static.

"That's too bad. We'll go take a look. Caleb could use some healing. …I can't argue with that, dear. Come on, you're coming with us, Mister Clay. No one's getting left behind, that's the plan."

They secure Caduceus and he waits for the usual affirmation.

"He's here, Caleb. Gods, he's so _calming_. Let's go ransack this place and see if there's a potion. Mister Clay didn't get a chance to go in yet."

Caleb pulls the sword into the little shop, the smell of wild herbs immediately hits him, stinging his nose and eyes. Blinking, he goes behind the counter and begins scanning the shelves. Some of the empty slots clearly once held more practical items while the rest, mostly leaves and herbs, remain untouched.

Eventually, he finds a small dusty vial with a familiar red liquid sitting tucked away behind a jar of tree bark. Pulling it out, he reads ' _Potion of Healing_ ' and assessing his wounds, he downs it in one.

He feels the injuries under his bandages close up and the pain eases up—not completely, but enough. Sighing in relief, he puts the vial down and looks down at the sword.

"Feeling better? Best not to think about how long that's been there. It's not like potions go bad anyway, I don't think. Where to next, Caleb?"

Considering his options for a moment, he leaves the shop and makes his way to the terminal at the end of the block.

"I forgot how many terminals they had in the market. How convenient."

Even with one placed at the end of the block, this is the first time he's been able to walk up to one without having to wait in line.

Logging in, he arches a brow at the sight of a message waiting for him. From Eodwulf.

_Re: Bren_

_Sent minutes ago from the Zauber Spire_

He hesitates.

"Let's see what he has to say."

Caleb nods and opens it and hears a familiar voice. It’s a touch more mature compared to his memories, but he’d know it anywhere.

_"Bren, so you survived. I should've known you wouldn't just lie down and disappear. You didn't the first time so why would this be the exception? And to make matters worse, you took the Beacon from us. Master Ikithon…is not happy. But then, I don't think he's ever been happy. Never been satisfied with us or our work. You were his favourite, you know? The one with the most promise. We all knew it._

_"Astrid went to go find you. She's the one who found you again. You can hide from our magic, but your eyes will always give you away, Bren. I imagine she's gone now. If not by the Consecution then by your hand. It’s a shame. Our poor Astrid. Always so headstrong._

_"I'm in the Zauber Spire. The wards are keeping the Consecution at bay. For now. Come find me and we can talk. Don't go through the Interstead Sprawl. Something dangerous lurks there, and you should take care. You have something very valuable in your hands."_

Hands shaking, he types in a response.

_> Eodwulf, what have you done?_

Closing the message, he leans forward against the terminal and takes a deep breath.

"He called this sword the 'Beacon'. Caleb, do you know what that means?"

Shaking his head, he starts typing a response and pauses. Looking down at the long paragraph, he ruefully deletes the words and chooses them more carefully.

"Sorry, I know I'm not the best reader."

_> Don't be sorry. I wasn't thinking. I left before any of this._

"Okay. …okay. So, where should we go next? He said to avoid the Interstead Sprawl."

_> But that is where the Cobalt Soul is._

"And maybe Beau. Shit. Guess we're heading there next then?"

Caleb purses his lips and nods.

"I'm going to be so angry if she's not there. Be careful, Caleb."

_> I will._

\--

The walk out of the Pentamarket is a quiet one, stopping only to cut down more demons. Thrusting the sword through the last demon, he blinks when he feels energy and _healing_ surge through him.

Unwrapping one of the bandages, he finds the wound fully healed.

"Must be Mister Clay. He found a way to heal you after all. Honestly, thank the gods for Mister Clay."

Entering the Interstead Sprawl, Caleb immediately notices the oppressive feeling in the air, the kind that only comes with a creature of immense power.

"…Caleb?"

He blinks and looks down when he hears the syllables slurred together.

"Caleb, I think something's wrong."

Pausing, he takes a closer look at the sword, fearing the worst. But there's barely a nick on it much less any obvious sign of damage. The center eye of the sword, however, has lit up red.

Caleb frowns and backtracks a little bit. Although the light remains lit, the voice seems to have reverted back to normal.

"What happened? I…I'll be okay. Maybe we can get Beau and get out before anything notices us. Let's try to keep this quick?"

Although hesitant, he eventually nods and continues pushing his way through the streets towards the Cobalt Soul.

Above, a figure flashes by, casting a shadow over him for no more than a second. Not wanting to be a sitting target, he keeps moving.

"…did I ever tell you about who taught me about the egg trick? It was Bo! Big Bo not our Beau. Beau Beau. Whatever. He…he said, 'The colour of the egg doesn't matter if you make it runny enough.'"

He quirks a brow at that, unsure what to make of the anecdote.

Still. Better drunken rambling than silence.

The figure passes by overhead again, and this time, he catches glimpse of a giant beast.

"Cay-leb. Demons. Oh, that's new."

Quickly disposing of the demons, he walks up to the rift and brings the sword down on it, dispelling it.

"And stay the hell out!"

Caleb can only shake his head in response to the self-inflicted burst of giggles.

Another block down and he sees the figure doubling back in the air. Ducking into an alleyway, he waits for it to pass.

"Do you think I'm alone? I know we got the others but I can't see or hear them. I felt them but I can't anymore. There's just…there's just you. I'm glad there's you even if I miss hearing your voice. I don't like being alone."

He tilts his head up just in time to see a large wing flapping over the buildings.

"That's a _big_ motherfuck."

Once the coast is clear, he slips back out onto the street as stealthily as he can. It's silent for a while as he weaves around the buildings, trying to keep track of the monster in the sky.

"Caleb."

He looks down.

"…I love you, Caleb Widogast. I love you so much. You know that, right?"

More concerned now, he waits for the next line.

Nothing comes.

Frowning, Caleb leans down and taps the blade.

"Hngh? Hello there, handsome. I wish I was there with you. To protect you. But you're so far away… I'm scared for you, Caleb."

Unable to turn back, he jogs down the block and turns the corner, spotting a familiar ivory door set on the side of a building. He makes a run for it, slamming the door behind him as he enters.

"…wha? Oh, we're back at the mansion. I'm alright—I think. I feel more like…me. That was weird. It felt like I was getting pulled away somewhere. You can probably just ignore whatever I was saying."

Sighing in relief, he sits down in the foyer and watches Frumpkin trot up to him, the feathered boa still draped around his neck.

"Aww, good job keeping an eye on it, Frumpy."

The cat meows and curls up in his lap.

Caleb idly reaches down and scratches Frumpkin behind the ear as he studies the sword. The red glow in the center still burns bright, a persistent reminder that this is but a temporary respite.

Running a hand over the blade, he can't find anything that's changed about it since he first pulled it free from the tiefling's chest.

"Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay, Caleb. Let's just get back out there, find Beau, and get the fuck away from this place. Don't worry about me. I'll be alright."

He frowns, reluctant to leave the safety of the mansion.

"I know, dear, but we don't really have much of a choice, do we? Just, be careful out there."

Eventually, Caleb nods and pushes himself up, unable to put off the task any longer. Setting Frumpkin on the ground, he steps back outside.

"Oh, _fuck_."

Caleb silently mouths his agreement and continues on, weaving his way around the buildings like he did earlier. Above, the figure resumes circling above the district, occasionally blocking out the sun.

He keeps going for several blocks before the silence gets to him. Leaning down a little, he tries tapping on the blade again.

"…I can't…I…empty…"

His heart stops.

Tapping harder at the blade, Caleb tries to get another response.

"Empty, empty, empty…"

He starts running for the nearest terminal. The one he finds is still logged in to another user with errors flashing across the page.

Ignoring all of that, he pulls up the response field and types frantically.

_> Hallo? Are you there? Please answer me._

"Empty, em—…I…who?"

_> Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. Molly to your friends._

"…"

_> Except me. But that's because I love your name._

"…Mol…"

Static.

_> No! You have to fight this, Mister Mollymauk. Just stay with me a little longer. We're almost there._

"…I… _Cale—_ "

_> Mollymauk? _

"…empty…"

_> I will kill this thing. It will not take you from me._

Not receiving a reply, he slams his fists down on the terminal and stalks off. Quickly finding a narrow space, he looks up, eyes scanning the sky for the beast.

It does take very long to find it. As it passes overhead, he launches a fire bolt at it and hears it let out a screech as it flaps its wings to double around.

He presses himself up against the wall and watches as a large metal dragon lands, its head swinging to and fro, looking for the person foolish enough to attack it.

Taking a deep breath, Caleb steps out and fires an explosive shot at the dragon from behind.

It roars and rears onto its hind legs, clumsily trying to maneuver around the tight space, giving him time to get several more attacks in before it fully turns around.

The dragon lunges forward and snaps at him.

He teleports out of the way and frowns when everything around him seems to slow down. Taking advantage of the moment, he launches another explosive shot at its face before zipping out of the way only for the tail to catch him mid-swing.

Hitting the wall with a grunt, the dragon makes a noise of discomfort as its tail swings back, covered in ice shards. He quickly puts more distance between him and the dragon before taking another shot.

Growling, the metal dragon curls around again, this time opening its mouth and sending out a blast of pure energy at him.

Caleb does his best to duck out of the way and jams the sword into the dragon's front leg. He watches as the faint glow of the dragon split around the sword, allowing it to pierce the leg.

The thin sheet of metal gives out easily under the blade and he perks up, pleased to have found a weakness.

The dragon hisses at him, hitting him with another blast of force that nearly sends him onto his back.

He winces and steadies himself.

Another blast and he'll be well on his way to the City himself.

But he can't go yet.

Fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt of the sword, Caleb waits as it readies another blast. When it leans forward to unleash its attack, he teleports forward once more, appearing in the air and brings the sword down, carving through the dragon's neck as deep as the blade will reach.

Going down, time seems to warp around him once more, slowing almost to a halt. Acting on instinct, he teleports to the other side of the dragon and finishes the job.

The head slides off, hitting the ground with a heavy thud and Caleb doesn't fare any better, landing ungracefully on his back.

Quickly scrambling back up onto his feet, he looks down at his sword only to find the red glow still there. He taps the blade and is met with silence.

Cursing soundlessly, he trudges up to the fallen body and furrows his brows as time distorts around him as it did previously, this time making him feel abysmally slow. He inches his way forward and peers inside the empty cavern of its body to see a heart, still beating and emitting a thick magical glow.

Reaching back, he fights through the inertia and thrusts the blade into the heart.

Everything seems to stop for a moment and then a wave of energy rockets out from the heart, sending him flying back.

Landing roughly on his back once more, he blinks the stars out of his eyes and sits up, gingerly rubbing the back of his head.

"…ow, what happened?"

Caleb's head snaps to the side to see the sword, no longer glowing that ominous red and lets out a deep sigh of relief and lies back down on the ground, exhausted.

"Did I go somewhere? Caleb? Caleb, are you alright? What happened? Holy shit, is that a dragon!? Did _you_ do that!?"

He smiles and pulls the sword a little closer.

"Caleb, you're amazing! I'd kiss you right now if I could."

Placing a hand flat on the blade, he waits until he catches his breath and sits up, aching all over.

"Time to get going then, Caleb Widogast, Dragon Slayer?"

Nodding, he pushes himself to his feet with the sword and hobbles over to the dragon's fallen head. Upon closer inspection, he can see a moustache painted on its face that someone failed to clean off properly.

It's the ornamental dragon that once hung in the Platinum House.

The same one Jester defaced all those months ago.

"Well, shit. There's another temple here, right? Let's hurry up before one of their statues decide to come to life too."

His arms burn as he drags the sword behind him, but he takes comfort in the soft humming that comes from it as he walks.

\--

Finally able to move directly towards the Cobalt Soul, it takes a fraction of the time to reach the library. He's considering entering the building when he spots a familiar figure by the door, slumped over, her fists battered and bloodied.

"Beau?"

There's an immediate reply.

"Hello to you too, unpleasant one. Caleb had to fight a dragon to get to you."

Beauregard cracks open an eye at him, looking faintly impressed.

He shrugs in response.

"She says there's a potion in her pocket. You should take it."

Caleb arches a brow.

"She says someone else was bound to need it more. Like you. You really are very sweet sometimes, aren't you, Beauregard?"

She huffs.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you too."

He pulls the vial out of her pocket and downs it with a sigh, his limbs feeling a little lighter for it. Nodding his thanks, he sits down next to her and listens in on the conversation the best he can.

"Jester went to check for mail at the Pillow Trove, so that's where we'll find her. After that, we'll have everyone. …well, we kind of worked our way from the outside in, Beau. I think out of all of us, Jester's probably the strongest one. She'll be there."

Reaching down, he takes the monk's arm and squeezes in agreement.

Beau glances at him again and nods.

"Are you ready then?"

She lets out a grunt.

"You did good, Beau. You did really good. Leave the rest to us."

Closing her eyes, she exhales softly and lets the grey light surround her completely and then her body disappears.

Caleb sits for a moment longer, his hand suddenly cold and empty.

"We're almost done, Caleb. Just a little more."

He nods and pushes himself up. Although he's not as sore, the exhaustion is still there. Noticing a terminal a few steps away, he walks over and logs in to find a new message waiting for him.

_Re: The Beacon_

_Sent minutes ago from the Zauber Spire_

"Looks like he's still holding out in there."

Frowning, he plays the message.

_"What we've done…that's a very broad question, Bren. What **haven't** we done? We've learned to control the world, starting with Zadash. With the Beacon, we had an unlimited source of dunamancy and the means to control it at our whim. We found a way to give it a more functional form with the help of your friend. You want sunshine? We'd find a sunny day and bring it back. You want a new building? We'll speed up the process. We **ran** this city._

_"What you took from us was that brush. That control. The Consecution was always part of the Beacon, but we were still learning how to best put it to use. Something happened when you took the Beacon. I guess you can say it's been set to Consecution mode, and all the magic we've put in place around the city has become unstable. We have no way to control it—not without the Beacon, though I doubt you'll hand it over so easily. You never were one to listen."_

Mind whirling with new information, he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to process everything.

_> Eodwulf, what does the Consecution do?_

"Caleb, you understood all that? Wait, of course you did. What's 'dunamancy'?"

_> It's time magic. The kind I used to study before I left. He said this sword can control time magic. That's how they shaped the city._

"Shit, but it's just a sword! How's that possible? I mean it takes people inside and that’s pretty weird, but how's that causing these rifts and demons?"

_> The magic grew unstable. I am guessing these rifts are being pulled from some other time into ours. _

"And the Consecution? Any idea what that is or where everyone's gone?"

He shakes his head.

_> I don't know yet. Are you alright?_

"Yeah, I’m fine. I just wish I knew what was going on. He said they had help from your friend. Who did they mean? Is it me? Is that why she knew _his_ name?"

_> We will find out. I promise we will, Mollymauk._

"…honestly, who types with proper grammar and spelling nowadays?"

_> I do._

He's rewarded with a soft laugh.

"And I love it. Never change, you glorious man. …thanks, Caleb."

_> We're almost done. Stay with me._

"Okay. Yeah, I can do that. Just…don't let me go."

\--

Turning back the way he came, Caleb leaves the Interstead Sprawl and, other than the occasional rift and demons, easily passes through the gates to the Tri-Spires.

"It's strange being able to walk through like this. The guards here were always kind of assholes."

As if on cue, two demons spawn from the ground and lunge forward. Teleporting to the side, he brings the sword down on the first, feeling some of his health restored with the hit.

"Hey, it's not moving, Caleb. I think you stunned it. Guess Beau didn't want to leave the rest to us, huh?"

Finishing the first demon off with an explosive shot, he teleports back and aims a fire bolt at the remaining one. It snaps at him, only to get a mouthful of icy shards followed by the blade, beheading it before it can react.

"You're getting very good at this."

Caleb purses his lips and shrugs a little. He'd be much more comfortable with his books and spells but this is the next best thing.

The trek over to the Pillow Trove is quiet save for the soft jingle of the jewellery decorating the sword and the occasional comment about the shops he passes by.

Entering the inn, he's greeted with the sight of chaos. The lobby has been all but destroyed and he suspects that if the demons' bodies didn't dissipate after their deaths, the room would be littered with quite a few of them.

He finds Jester in her room after wedging the door open with the sword.

"Oh, Jester…"

Sitting with her back against the bed, her dress is torn and bloodied, but she has the energy to look up and smile as they enter. The static that leaves her mouth has a familiar lilt to it that brings him an equal amount of fondness and relief.

"You're so badass. They never stood a chance."

Her smile widens.

"Ah, of course. He'd be a fool to let anything happen to you. You're his number one follower. …yes, not to worry, dear, we got them all. The Nein are all here. I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner to watch you kick some demon ass."

Jester tilts her head questioningly at him.

"They took his voice. That's why he's even quieter than usual. He's definitely impressed though, it's as clear as day."

Caleb nods in agreement.

"She wants to know what the next step is."

He glances towards the window in the direction the Zauber Spire's standing.

"Looks like he has something in mind. …no problem. Miss Jester ‘Fancypants’ Lavorre would like a hug from you, Mister Caleb, and a promise that you'll be careful out here."

Leaning the sword against a dresser, he kneels down and gathers her in his arms, holding her tight for a moment to relish the fact that she’s warm and _whole_.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him. We'll all be back together again soon. Just you watch."

Jester press her lips against his cheek and he can feel her smile as she mouths the words, 'See you soon, Cay-leb.'

And then she's gone.

He breathes in sharply, suddenly cold without her, and stands back up.

"I guess that's everyone then. We're the only ones left. Just us, and them. What now?"

Taking the sword back in his hand, he returns to the lobby and finds an untouched terminal just outside the entrance.

_Re: The Consecution_

_Sent minutes ago from the Zauber Spire_

Caleb plays the message.

_"What does the Consecution do? Well, Bren, where dunamancy manipulates time, the Consecution ensures the cycle continues. Not just the cycle of time though, of lives as well. Through the Beacon, lives come and go, but they always return. That's about as much as I know. Maybe Lucien can tell you more. But enough of this. If you want to talk, you know where I am."_

He doesn't reply.

"Him again. Why is it _him_ again? Listen, I don't get this. I don't even know what questions to ask. Whatever the connection, it wasn't me. That's _not_ my name."

_> I know, Mollymauk. You are you and no one else._

"As are you, Caleb Widogast. You don't have to chase after these people, you know that, right? I mean, if you want to go kill them, that's fine. I get it. But you can also walk away—go find somewhere safe."

_> I don't think that's ever been an option for me. Not now. Not when they know I'm alive._

"They sound pretty trapped right now. This city isn't going to last. If we leave now, I don't think they'd survive to chase you down."

_> What if there's a chance of getting you and the others back?_

"What if they hurt you? You know better than anyone the kind of people they are. It's not worth the risk."

_> I love you, Mollymauk. You are worth the risk._

"Well, _fuck_ , there's nothing I can say to that, is there?"

Caleb smiles.

"Just for that, I'm going to butcher every Zemnian word I know and there's nothing you can do about it. _Ich liebe dich auch, Liebling_. Let's do this."

So he walks and listens to a smattering of Zemnian words along with a few clearly made up ones. To his credit, he only reaches down to tap on the blade twice.

\--

The Zauber Spire looms over him as he gets closer. Looking up, he rubs the back of his neck and walks towards the entrance.

"I've never been inside before. At this point, I'll be disappointed if there aren't magic stairs and paintings where the eyes follow you around."

Caleb huffs and steps inside, seeing the familiar interior—magically candlelit despite having access to electricity. The smell of old books and parchment linger in the stale air and a large painting hangs on the wall by the staircase.

He makes a sweeping gesture of the room.

"Okay, yeah, this seems fitting. I'm actually not disgusted by this. They clearly had a vision in mind so why _not_ go that extra mile for the aesthetic?"

The trek up the spire proves to be long and grueling, the sword leaving a dent in every century-old step as it's dragged up.

By the time he reaches the third floor, he's leaning forward against the sword and out of breath.

"We…didn't really think that through, did we?"

Caleb shakes his head, his heart pounding so loudly it makes his ears ring.

Suddenly, there's a deafening noise and the entire structure seems to shake. Bracing himself against the wall, he covers his head and waits for the quake to stop.

When the dust finally settles, he wipes the dirt and debris off his face with a sleeve and looks around, unable to see the cause of the ruckus through the solid brick walls.

The light on the sword glows red for a moment.

"Caleb, I think… Well, that was weird. I lost you for a sec there. It's upstairs, whatever this is. Do you think you can make it?"

He nods and continues winding his way up the stairs. When he reaches the sixth floor, he wraps around the spire once more only to find fresh air.

Jaw dropping, Caleb looks up at the sky above him, the rest of the tower nowhere to be found.

"…Bren."

Whirling around, he spots another familiar figure lying trapped under a large piece of debris.

"Huh, it's changed its form again," Eodwulf simply says. "Is it because of the subject? Master Ikithon will want to study it."

Caleb bristles at the name but jogs over anyway and looks for a way to remove the stone trapping the man. Despite his efforts, it's the size of a wagon and try as he might, it doesn't budge in the slightest.

"Don't bother. The Consecution will get me soon," Eodwulf tells him, resigned. "I'll go into the Beacon like everyone else. In a way, that's almost reassuring."

"What is the Consecution? Explain it."

Eodwulf glances down and lets out a shaky sigh. "We used the Beacon to use dunamancy to run the city. In order to do that, we expanded its range and made Zadash a single target with specific parts. When we killed you again, Lucien, I think we set it off. It took you and now it wants to finish the job. You were just a specific part of a single target, after all. Just one part of the whole."

He frowns and watches as a grey light start enveloping his old friend's body.

Taking a wet, shallow breath, Eodwulf looks at him. "I guess it's my turn. You know, I never resented you for leaving. Astrid…she wanted you back with us, but I didn't think you would come. You looked like you found a new life for yourself. Caleb, was it?"

"Yeah, he's Caleb Widogast now."

"Caleb Widogast," Eodwulf repeats, testing the name. "Well, Caleb Widogast, Master Ikithon is in the Gilded Willows…in the tower if you wish to seek him out." Suddenly, he looks up. "Oh…"

The rest of his words fizzle out into static as his body fades.

"Wait, how do you undo the Consecution— _fuck_!"

The debris shifts a little as a bit of space suddenly opens up underneath. Caleb's shoulders sag as he stares at the space, his grip tightening on the sword.

"Caleb, we should leave before whatever did this comes back."

Turning away, he drags the sword back down the stairwell, descending in silence.

"…his last words were that the light was warm."

He doesn't react, focusing on returning to the ground floor of the building.

Reaching the bottom once more, Caleb stands there for a moment to take in everything that just happened. Running a hand through his hair, he lets out a shaky sigh.

"Do you have any idea what took out the spire like that?"

Caleb shakes his head and walks over to a corner where one of the spire's terminal stands, partially hidden in the shadows—exactly as he remembers. The screen is filled with error messages and warnings, but he ignores it. There's nothing he can do to remedy the situation anyhow.

He doesn't notice his clenched fists until he hears, "I'm sorry about your friend, Caleb. He seemed pretty decent, all things considered."

Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to relax a little.

_> Maybe. I didn't really know him anymore._

"Even so. It's never easy losing someone you know. …do you think this is my fault?"

_> Why would you say that?_

"He said I set off the Consecution.”

_> No, if they hit me, I think it would be the same. Its target is the city and everything inside. Besides, you are not Lucien._

"That’s true. …so what should we do now, Caleb? Leaving town is still an option."

_> We don't have the answers we need yet._

"No, but like you said, the Consecution wants everything in Zadash. That means you too."

_> What if it spreads?_

"What if it doesn't? Zadash has never been my favourite city anyway. Confronting Eodwulf was one thing, but Ikithon? Caleb, you don't have to do this. I can wait. I just want you safe."

_> And I just want you and Nott and everyone back._

"What if it's not reversible?"

_> Either way, Trent needs to die._

"You didn't answer the question."

He steps away from the terminal.

"Caleb?"

Turning away, he leaves the spire and back over to the Silken Terrace, glancing back only once to see two thirds of the once looming tower missing.

\--

The walk over to the Gilded Willow is a silent one and he's already regretting walking away when he has no other means of communication.

"…Caleb, do you remember Hupperdook?"

He glances down and nods.

"What was that song you sang? The Mighty Nein song? I can't remember it. Hum it for me? Please?"

As far as middle grounds go, this is a paltry attempt at calling for a truce. But the city is empty and everyone he loves is gone, and without a voice or a body to hold, he's in no mood to carry on fighting with the only companion he has left.

So he hums the drunken little tune he once sang what feels like years ago. And reaching down, he gently runs a hand over the blade.

"Hupperdook was fun. Maybe we can go back when all this is over. We never did get to make good use of those drink tokens. And maybe I'll finally get a dance?"

Caleb smiles and nods at the thought. He taps a pinky to the blade.

"It's a promise then, Mister Caleb."

Suddenly, another shadow passes above him and the sword's eye begins flickering red again.

"Wait, what? I…not again!"

Eyes honing in on a large figure in the sky with a wreath of ravens, he quickly ducks into an alleyway and waits for it to pass. The dull red glow of the sword is steady now and shining brighter than it did before.

"Caleb…you're still there. You're still there. Please still be there."

Poking his head out to watch, he sees the statue of the Raven Queen fly towards the tower of the Constellation Bridge only to be repelled and flies off in a different direction.

Taking the opportunity, he runs down the once luxuriously decorated streets, now covered in distorted grey lights.

"Yasha. No more flowers for Yasha?"

There's a tremor beneath his feet and he looks back to see the armoured statue once housed in the temple to the Dawnfather walking with a heavy sword dragging behind it. He won't be able to outrun it no matter how slow its steps.

"Jes…Jester, he's coming. Get Jes…"

Blinking, he slams the sword into the ground and watches as a duplicate of himself appear next to him. He swallows hard and sends it running in the opposite direction while he ducks down an alleyway and watches.

Another hard tremor runs under his feet as the statue takes a sharp turn.

"…I'm not…empty…"

Caleb frowns and continues running towards the tower in the distance. His lungs are burning and he can feel his grip on the sword weakening when he passes by a familiar ivory door.

Nearly throwing him inside, he lets out a sigh of relief as he slams the door shut behind him.

"I'm not…oh, I'm back? Shit, how many of those things were there? It's like I can't do anything when they're close, but there's no way to fight so many. I guess all we can do is run. Don’t worry, I’m fine, or, I will be."

He shakes his head and drags the sword up the stairs once more, smiling when he sees Frumpkin with the feathered boa standing at the top, waiting to greet him.

Allowing the cat to scamper up around his neck, he huffs and flinches away when the pink feathers brush against his ear.

Ignoring this, Frumpkin purrs loudly, nuzzling his face.

"You two are adorable. C'mon, you look exhausted, Caleb. I think a nap and a meal is in order if you really insist on facing down this Trent."

His mood darkens at the mention of the name, but he nods and returns to the same room as last time. Everything's been returned to its original state when he enters. The bed is perfectly made and the incense sticks seem to have only started burning.

Crawling onto the bed, he lays the sword down and holds his cat close and drifts off to sleep to the sound of distant humming.

When he opens his eyes again, he feels significantly more refreshed. A hot meal is waiting for him as usual and the blade has been cleaned.

"Welcome back, Mister Caleb. I trust you slept well?"

Caleb nods and all but devours the food.

"Are you still planning on going to the tower? The option to skip town's still there."

He pauses only briefly before nodding again. Holding his breath, he waits to see if this will reignite the fight.

"Okay…I won't argue about it anymore if your mind's made up. I'm with you. All the way."

Reaching over, he uses a finger to untangle the delicate jewellery wrapped around the guard. Then slowly, he traces 'I LOVE YOU' onto the blade.

"I love you too. Maybe if things go well, I'll get to see you in person again real soon."

After the meal, he descends back down to the door. He holds Frumpkin for a long moment and kisses his head goodbye.

"Bye, Frumpy. I don't think we'll get to come back here again, but we'll summon you as soon as we can."

The cat merely sits by the door and meows his goodbye as Caleb leaves the mansion once more.

\--

He makes a break for the tower, spurred on by the red light of the sword and the silence accompanying it.

Behind him, the armour of the Dawnfather follows closely with slow but enormous steps. And above, the Raven Queen continues flying across the city.

The moment he steps through the barriers of the tower, the red glow fades and he breathes a little easier.

"Ow…my entire brain hurts. We're here then? We made it to the tower?"

Caleb nods and walks over to the terminal outside the tower.

The screen is covered in emergency bulletins and system failure warnings.

_Warning: 99% of Zadash overrun by the Consecution. Unstable magic causing rifts to appear across the city. Please immediately find the nearest Crownsguard for immediate evacuation._

"Evacuation? Where would they even go with 99% gone?"

Clearing the screen, he finds a restart protocol.

_Weather system failure. Override protocol activated. Please choose the weather:_

  * _Sunny_
  * _Overcast_
  * _Rain_
  * _Snow_



"Oh, it's not a vote anymore. It's just your choice. That's kind of nice, I suppose. I've never seen it snow in the Empire before."

_You picked: "Snow"_

_Override now in progress._

Suddenly, he feels something soft and cold land on his head. Looking up, he gasps at the sight of snowflakes drifting from the sky.

"It's beautiful. Why didn't people ever vote for this? Does it feel cold?"

Caleb nods, shivering a little in the thin, colourful coat. It's been too long since he last experienced any sort of real weather beyond the magically enforced sunshine of Zadash.

"We should get you inside then. Oh, and Caleb?"

He looks down.

"I love you."

Despite the snow, the words warm him a little.

\--

The world around them is silent, any ambient sound muffled by the thin layer of snow now covering the ground.

Standing in front of the doorway to the Constellation Bridge, he looks up at the watchtower grimly.

"This is it, then. If you're going to do this, just remember: he doesn't stand a chance against Caleb Widogast of the Mighty Nein."

He smiles despite himself and nods, stepping inside.

Immediately, he's greeted with a booming voice, _"Bren."_

"That's not his name."

 _"So you've come back,"_ the voice continues without pause. _"And you've brought the Beacon. Or should I call it Lucien?"_

"That's not my name."

_"I shouldn't be surprised you're here. You did come crawling the first time around, begging for a way to see the City without being fully Consecuted. You should've known better. The Consecution requires both body and soul and yet…"_

"Shut up! I don't—I don't care! I don't need to know any of this! I'm not him!"

_"…although it did end up mutually beneficial. You got to see the City and we were able to shape the Beacon with your blood. Tell me, Lucien, was the City everything you thought it'd be? Or did it eat up your soul and leave your body an empty shell? "_

"Make him stop—I don't…that wasn't me, Caleb."

Caleb frowns and walks through the entry hall, finding the terminal broadcasting the message and destroys it with an explosive shot.

The voice crackles and fades, but the message doesn't end. Instead, it's replaced with a fainter copy, filtering in from the stairway.

_"And you, Bren, my star pupil. What a disappointment you turned out to be. So much promise but you squandered it all. And for what? To play mercenary? To join the circus? You could've been so much more. You still can be."_

"That's not true, Caleb. You didn't squander anything. Don't listen to this fucker. I know bullshit when I hear it and he's just full of it."

He tightens his grip on the sword and walks up the stairs. As he does, time seems to distort around him making twenty steps feel like two as he's sped up the staircase.

"Oh, that's trippy. Is this that 'dunamancy' thing? It's certainly easier than actually walking up the stairs."

_"…however, I will applaud you for hiding right underneath our noses for so many years. Caleb Widogast, was it? You've had your fun. Don't you think it's time you stopped playing around, Bren?"_

Quickly finding the terminal, he destroys it and revels in the moment of peace.

"He never stops talking, does he? I can't believe Beau used to complain about _me_. No one's ever allowed to call me talkative again."

Caleb turns and sets his sights on the stairwell and makes him way up, the temporal distortion taking him up to the next storey in a fraction of the time.

_"…imagine how much more we could’ve done—how much more we **can** still do if you apply your research to what we've accomplished so far."_

Instead of destroying the terminal, he leans down and types.

_> Before I kill you, tell me if the Consecution is reversible._

The message cuts short and is replaced with a crackle.

_"Hmph, bold words, boy. To reverse it would be to bring back the dead. The Consecution is rebirth. It's the life and death of both body and soul. It has its rules and Lucien already tried breaking them. A lesson well learned, I'd say."_

"…"

_> Then I have no further use for you._

A dark chuckle. _"And yet we are the only two left in the city, Bren. If you do not put the Beacon back onto the Stand, then neither of us will survive to tell the tale of our accomplishments. I have already rerouted the power from the other towers. The Constellation Bridge will not hold out much longer."_

"Then the Zauber Spire…to his own student. This man's a monster."

_"So, Bren, what will you do?"_

He destroys the terminal as a chuckle begins.

From upstairs, he hears the laughter continue. Frowning down at the sword, he glances upwards then back.

"Yeah, I know. You do what you need to, Caleb. I'll be with you the whole way. We all will. Just be careful. Please."

Caleb nods, running his fingers over the blade lightly, taking a moment to squeeze the familiar silver pendant hanging off the hilt.

The journey up the tower is silent. With dunamancy aiding him up the stairs on every floor, he reaches the top without any difficulty. Although the dread is still pooling in his stomach, his grip on the sword remains strong.

"Bren."

His head snaps up.

The voice isn't coming from a terminal this time.

"You finally made it," Trent says, standing behind the rails, storey above him. "The Stand is right over there if you'd be so kind as to put a stop to this nonsense."

"I'm down here if you'd 'be so kind as to come down here.'"

Mentally calculating the distance between them, Caleb silently curses when he realizes that the man is just out of reach.

Trent scoffs. "Did you really think I would give you the opportunity to attack me, boy? If you take another step I will simply have to put the Beacon back myself—after I pry it out of your cold dead hands."

There's a shudder that seems to shake the very foundations of the building.

Outside the window, he sees the Raven Queen doubling back for another attack, and below her, the Dawnfather has gotten right up to the barrier and started slashing at it with his sword.

"The wards won't hold up much longer. Would you rather we both be Consecuted?" Then in a softer voice, he says, "I can help you forget any of this ever happened, Bren. All you have to do is let me _help_ you."

He feels a wave of magic come over him, the familiarity of the feeling makes his stomach churn with bitter memories both true and false. His parents' faces flash in his mind, kind and smiling, then the images change and he sees a little goblin girl and a colourful tiefling lying on the ground unmoving.

The memory makes his throat grow sight and his eyes burn. Squeezing them shut, he takes a shuddering breath and tries to will the magic away.

"Caleb, please you have to fight this, darling. Don't let him fuck with your memory any more than he already has! I'm right here. We came here to _end_ this, remember?"

Knowing all too well what spell is being cast on him, he clutches his head and shakes it off with some effort, leaning on the sword for support.

"That's my clever wizard!"

Trent scowls. "You always were a little too smart for your own good. Fine. Let's try something else." He holds out a hand and mutters another incantation.

Magic flows through him once more. Already mentally battered from fending off the previous spell, he stands there, helpless, as he feels the spell seize his body.

"Oh, shit. Caleb? What's wrong?"

Smiling, Trent waves a hand and in response, he stands a little straighter at attention. "There. Much better. Now, _Bren_ , put the Beacon back on the Stand."

Without hesitation, he starts walking to the Stand, a small mount with a slot made for the Beacon set up in the middle of the room. He can feel Trent's watchful eye on him as he moves forward.

"Caleb? Caleb, you need to stop. Snap out of it! Why are you listening to him? Caleb, _please_ , we don't know what's going to happen if you do this."

He raises the sword.

"Caleb, don't—"

And he brings it down into the Stand.

\--

Caleb wakes to the feeling of emptiness and blinding white light. Helplessly trying to shield his eyes with one hand, he reaches out with the other only to find—nothing.

_"Hey, it's alright. Can you hear me, Caleb? It's going to be alright. I won't let you go. So just stay with me. Stay with me."_

The first thing he notices is the ground beneath him. Opening his eyes, he looks down to see the sword in his hands.

"Look what you've done, Bren."

His head snaps up at the voice to see Trent standing there with a sword of his own. They're standing in a barren space, surrounded by nothing but dull grey light and faint sparks of _something._ Quickly pushing himself up onto his feet, he waits for the barrage of magic.

But it never comes.

Trent scowls at his hands before letting his shoulders sag, relaxed and composed once more. "Oh well. I guess I'll just have to teach you a lesson the old fashion way."

Before he can react, he feels a sword cutting into his side. Instantly, his armour reacts and shards of ice clamp down on Trent's arm. Taking the opportunity, he teleports away and invokes a duplicate of himself.

Shaking the attack off, Trent frowns. "You've certainly picked up some handy tools on your way here, Bren."

Caleb scowls and launches a fire bolt from his duplicate before swinging forward and catching the man on the arm, the attack filling him back up with a little energy.

"Not good enough," Trent shouts, swinging back.

Seeing the wave of magical energy arcing his way, he swings up and dispels the attack and launches an explosive shot back before teleporting to put some distance between them.

Trent charges forward, suddenly appearing next to him, and he winces, feeling the sword impact on his side again. "Did you really think you could defeat me, boy?"

He clutches at his side, trying to slow the bleeding. Going in for another explosive shot, Trent dodges out of the way and lands another hit, bringing him down to his knees with a gasp.

Caleb swallows hard and tries to get back up, but the bleeding isn't slowing down and he's starting to feel lightheaded. Ahead, he watches with a detached sense of hopelessness as Trent rushes towards him, sword in hand.

Suddenly, there's a flash of bright red at his side and the man clutches at his eyes, trying to scrub the inky blackness out of them.

At the sight of this, Caleb feels a surge of energy run through him and pushes himself up. Swinging his sword down, he hears the blade cutting through flesh and looks back, his side slowly stitching itself back together.

Trent, his eyes now clear, is watching him, stunned. Unable to move or speak, anger and outrage colour his face, but underneath it all, Caleb can see the fear.

Walking forward, he raises the blade and swings down one final time.

\--

"… _eb_ … _Caleb_. Caleb!"

His eyes flutter open to see grey skies and snowflakes, gently drifting down. Sitting up, he looks around to find himself back where he started on the outskirts of town and the sword by his side.

"Thank the gods, I didn’t—no, forget that. You did it! You stopped the Consecution and Trent's gone. It's over, Caleb. All that's left is to rebuild."

Slowly getting back up onto his feet, he dusts himself off and looks down at the bloody tear in the side of the coat apologetically.

"Don't worry about it, it's just a coat. My favourite coat, sure, but you're my favourite wizard, so it's fine. Besides, it doesn't look like I have a body to put it on anymore."

Caleb blinks and turns around to see the place where he'd left the lavender tiefling lying was now covered in distorted walls and a dull grey light. Frowning, he brings the sword down on the ground and watches as a wave of magic washes over the area, bringing the entire block back to the way he remembers, tiefling and all.

"Well, would you look at that. You can redesign all of Zadash then. I think you'd make a great architect with that memory of yours, Caleb, just make sure you only make every _other_ building a bookstore."

He shakes his head and walks over to the body, still pale and lifeless, though the jewellery he'd taken has been duplicated and restored.

"…hey, it's okay, Caleb. I know he said it wasn't reversible, but we'll figure something out…won’t we? I'm still here. In here, I mean.”

Kneeling down, he gently brushes the hair out of the tiefling's face. Once more, his fingers gingerly run up the curve of the horns, dancing over the charms and chains that decorate them. At their familiar chime, he inhales deeply, resolved.

Getting back onto his feet, he drags the sword a few steps away and runs a hand over the blade before placing a kiss on it.

"Caleb?"

Pushing it into the ground, Caleb pulls the maroon coat tighter around himself and breathes in, still able to catch that faint scent of incense and spices.

"Caleb, what are you doing?"

He smiles and shakes his head before going to sit down between the tiefling's legs and leans back against that scarred, unbreathing chest. There's no heartbeat, no warmth, and he tries not to shiver at the cold as the snow continues to fall around them.

"Caleb, whatever you're thinking, please don't."

With a simple gesture, he raises the sword up off the ground.

"Caleb, please, please, _no_. Caleb—"

He closes his eyes and brings the blade forward.

\--

When he opens his eyes again, the grey skies have disappeared once more only to be replaced by a clear blue sky. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he sits up and frowns when his vision is obscured by the field of tall grasses and blinks.

Ahead, he sees movement as people approach.

"Cay-leb! Where have you been!? We've been looking _everywhere_ for you! Nott, I found him!"

"My boy! You found my boy!"

"Took you long enough to get here, man."

Suddenly, two figures block the sun from his vision and cast a shadow over him. Looking up, he hones in on the smaller of the pair with the bright, crimson eyes, full of mischief and _alive_.

The tiefling steps a little closer and crouches down in front of him, the jewellery on his horns chiming pleasantly at the movement. He smiles, eyes crinkling a little at the corners. "There you are, Mister Caleb."

Hesitantly, Caleb reaches out and cups the tiefling's face, who instinctively nuzzles back, whole, warm, and _real_. Warmth fills his heart and he can't keep the smile off his face as he murmurs back, "Here I am, Mister Mollymauk."

**Author's Note:**

> Nein Functions:  
> Caleb - Fire Bolt  
> Molly - Misty Steps  
> Nott - Explosive Shot  
> Yasha - Dispel Magic  
> Fjord - Armour of Agethys  
> Beau - Stunning Strike  
> Jester - Invoke Duplicity  
> Caduceus - Vampiric Touch
> 
> Trent is real mean with that Modify Memories and Dominate Person


End file.
